


(I Don’t Want To) Set The World On Fire

by Dragon_Of_The_South_Wind (Hoodie_2_Shoes)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, I think i butchered writing the australian accent im so sorry, M/M, Talon Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, War, jack is wearing his bone skin here if it helps, sappy husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-07 20:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19092844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodie_2_Shoes/pseuds/Dragon_Of_The_South_Wind
Summary: A simple retrieval mission with Gabe on their special day went awry when Jack was faced with a choice that sent him spiraling down the memory of where it all started to go wrong. Jack knew better than to change who the Reaper was, but Gabe always had a few surprises of his own.There's not much he wouldn't set on fire to keep his love safe, after all.My Talon!AU piece for the They Loved Each Other R76 zine!





	(I Don’t Want To) Set The World On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a single R76 piece before, but you really can't claw your way out once you did. The number of talented creators on this ship is INSANE. 
> 
> Have a little [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/22xxlmzenpp2fvyfzvxqr672a/playlist/7CBWMB32J1TN7HTK9T3t8B?si=qW3i6bxlQO-u-qeJ0tA7BQ) I made to help set down the tone of writing these two. Perhaps the most surprising thing about this ship is how everyone has a different dynamic in mind, from angsty lovers-to-enemies to edgy partners in crime to tooth-rotting sappy husbands, in which case my piece is somewhere between the latter two.

 

“Up for a bet, Jack?”

 

Not something Jack expected to hear before facing down a Junkers’ lair, but Gabe was anything but predictable. Gabe finished off loading his guns with a click. Jack slapped on his grenades, noting with mild disgust the blood splattered on his rifle, where it had met the acquaintance of the Junker’s nose back on the roof. He could barely see it under the cybernetic stabilizer’s jittery blue light from his left temple. He might’ve screwed up a wire; Sombra could take a look later. _Best turn it off for now._

 

“You’re full of ideas today,” he said.

 

“If I can take down all of ‘em without anyone knowing, I get the rest of your day.”

 

Jack stopped short of chuckling, partly to keep Gabe on his toes. “That’s an awful lot to ask, Commander Reaper. But keep this professional. We’re on a—”

 

“Screw professional. We’re having fun today,” Gabe said, positively grinning now. “Watch.”

 

Just like that, he was off. As he stepped into the tungsten-lit corridor Gabriel Reyes ended and the Wraith began, a cloud of bloodlust disappearing beneath the door. Jack heard a muffled cry. When Gabe reappeared, he spared him a brief glance before slipping into another room. _One_ , he signed.

 

It irritated him to no end, Gabe treating missions like games and daring date nights.

 

And it made days bearable.

 

He heard a distant flicking sound, like a lighter, then a sickening thump. He raised his rifle. His breath was still drawn when Gabe materialized ahead, unaffected in the slightest, flicking nonexistent dust off his shoulder. _Two_. Jack was one free hand away from flipping him off.

 

Gabe headed to the furthest door and dissolved into a puddle of shadows.

 

“Oy! The hell ya think—”

 

Crashes landed, fleeting but loud.

 

“Alright there, Gazza?” someone shouted.

 

_Fuck._

 

Jack clambered away. No sign of the man or the smoke. Shadows and footsteps converged. Frantically, he looked around for any distraction, any—

 

The master power lever arched above him.

 

Jack swung it skywards and sent every light out with a snap. No questioning the sound of sliding rifle magazines now.

 

“Show yerself, ya dill pickle!”  

 

The Junkers fumbled along the hallway. Jack brought up his night vision and poised himself for the firefight. His heart dropped at the sight of the assault rifle, gleaming a deadly metallic hue.

 

_Just this once, Gabe, nothing stupid._

 

A wispy veil of darkness surged out beneath the door. Gabe whisked past their legs unnoticed, twisting and slithering in the penumbra.

 

The void materialized behind them with a pair of hellfire shotguns.

 

A brilliant flash split the dark. The bald man went down with the first blow. The skinny man spun around and was sent sprawling with two blasts in the chest. The lady rattled away with her rifle, screaming until a dull whack ceased her voice. The rifle skidded to a stop beside Jack before he kicked it away.

 

“Technically nobody saw me if everybody’s dead, so,” Gabe cracked his neck, out of habit rather than necessity, “any plans for our date?”

 

“Let’s put working on your idea of _stealth_ on that list.”

 

Jack sidestepped the bodies, realizing too late that the front of his boots were sopped in blood. He was attuned to not dwell on it. It made no difference when one was already knee-deep.

 

Silver shafts of moonlight pierced the warehouse’s crumbling roof, dust raining on the darkened room strewn with abandoned desks and office supplies. Two crates of automatic weapons were kept next to a couch, their barrels poking out and beckoning him forward. Jack took off his visor and whiffed the lingering tang of smoke. Gabe rushed ahead and kicked over a crackling brazier of fire that somehow slipped out of his sight, carpeting the floor in embers and ash. Among them, a scattered pile of glossy half-scorched papers. He whistled.

 

“Is it…?” Jack went closer.

 

“Ten bucks on those fellas tossing in entire stacks of ‘em,” Gabe rummaged through the debris. “There can only be so much high-grade paper that hasn’t turned to dust.”

 

Gabe held up a fat folder with an embossed Oasis emblem. The cover was singed at the margins but it was otherwise intact.

 

“Can you imagine Moira’s face when she hears these folk are burning Oasis archive files for warmth?” he snickered.

 

“How did this even end up here?”

 

“Black market.” Gabe thumbed through its contents. “They used to do experiments here. Research was cut off in the fallout—”

 

He froze.

 

“What?”

 

Gabe raised the folder.

 

**SEP : ANNOTATIONS BY OASIS BOARD OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES**

 

“She objected to sending _us_ , remember? Wasting resources, my ass.”

 

Jack stared as he went to work ripping off pages, some carefully, some deliberately crude. He plunged what remained of the folder into the fire to disfigure it further.

 

“She’s going to find out.”

 

“Let her,” Gabe said with undertones that made Jack queasy. “She doesn’t have all the cards now.”

 

The stack in his hands grew sizable by the time he was satisfied with the damage. Jack managed to grasp his arm before he could toss them into the flames.

 

“And you’re going to throw your own cards away?”

 

“We’re not geneticists. These aren’t gonna do us any good.”

 

“If they’re ashes.”

 

“We. Will. Get. Compromised.” Gabe pressed his face one breath away from his. Firelight danced off his bone-pale mask, framing his eyes in a gentle orange. “We’re this close to getting you into the council. It’s not worth it.”

 

“I’ll take my chances,” Jack said and snatched the pages from his claws. The first dozen or so pages, filled with anatomy diagrams and molecular formulae, he tucked into his pocket. The rest he hurled into the fire. The look on Gabe’s face was more tired exasperation than anger as Jack tried to stare him down. “You know I’m not giving up on your cure so save your strength.”

 

Gabe smirked. “Then don’t expect me to talk your ass out of another interrogation.”

 

“I’m counting on it.” 

 

_The rebel and the diplomat. How the tables have turned._

 

He turned away from the disturbing sight of Gabe’s chest cavity blooming as he shoved the folder inside, turning to leave when a muffled crash echoed from the depths. They found a bolted metal door on the far end of the room with quiet skittering on the other side.

 

Gabe materialized behind him and unsheathed his guns. “That leads to the bunker.”

 

“I’ll go,” he said. Gabe backed off and nodded.

 

Jack slammed the door open and charged in. His eyes zeroed in on the two figures awash in a crimson neon glare, his finger hovering over the trigger—

 

They weren’t Junkers. They weren’t even armed.

 

A bearded man in biker goggles and mud-caked garments, holding a hammer that Jack immediately connected to the slightly chipped wooden plank nailed against a door. A boy no older than eight cowered behind him, sporting a buzzed head and an oversized leather jacket.

 

“Please, mate,” the man said, his voice trembling as he tossed the hammer aside. “Just let us outta here. The parts’ all yours and we’ll stay out of—wait, you’re not a Junker?”

 

 _Scavengers_ , Jack thought. _Civilians._

 

_Leave no witness._

 

“Oh sir, thank god, can you get us out of here?”

 

_Look away, Jack._

 

All he saw were flames.

 

 _Flames, everywhere. Rubble falling like snow. He dashed through the smoke, suffocating, clambering for the exit._ _He was angry. At Talon and at himself, who couldn’t even fight a bug in his brain telling him to light the fuse. It made him want to dive into the fire._

 

_“...hello?”_

 

_He saw her, dust clinging on her tear-streaked face. He felt his chest collapse inward at the sight of her smile._

 

_“Oh thank god. Can you help me get out, mister? I can’t get the door open—”_

 

_He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Her eyes squinted then grew wide._

 

_“Commander Morrison?”_

 

_A loud crash, a scream, a shadow._

 

_“Jack! Ship’s about to leave—”_

 

_He saw her, too._

 

_“Gabe,” he pleaded._

 

_“They said leave no witness.”_

 

_“Please,” she cried. “I won’t say a thing.”_

 

_“We don’t have to do this.”_

 

_The Reaper sighed. “Look away, Jack.”_

 

_Like a coward, he did._

 

Jack caught himself staggering, two blank faces swimming up his vision.

 

The child screamed as Gabe barged in. Breathlessly Jack watched him assess the room with silent hostility, his shotguns trained ahead.

 

The symmetry frightened him. “Gabe.”

 

Gabe’s eyes trailed the hostages retreating into the corner. “Why do you always stumble into this?”

 

“We can step away.”

 

Gabe scoffed.

 

“Listen to me,” Jack said. Gabe would not meet his gaze. “I can live with being a criminal, but this? These people did _nothing_. We’re above making lives into excuses. I don’t want you to sink deeper to keep me safe. It shouldn’t be your job.”

 

The guns stayed stubbornly raised.

 

“Don’t go somewhere I can’t follow, Gabe.”

 

Silence coalesced, punctuated only by the child’s shallow breathing. Something in the boy’s eyes glistened as he stared at the Reaper, beneath all the horror and bewilderment. A battered sliver of innocence preserved in his apocalyptic world. What would be left, as the night died away?

 

Jack saw a shadow of Gabe’s past in those eyes. Another boy, another place and time, spiraling into a life of violence.

 

“You’re thinking about him, Gabe,” Jack said. “Think harder.”

 

“Don’t you bring up Jesse,” Gabe spat. Jack couldn’t read his eyes in the shadows.

 

“Goddammit,” He broke his glare. “This is on you, Jack.”

 

He raised his gun. The shot rang out over Jack’s cry—

 

—and the plank landed in splinters with a soft clatter.

 

There was a fleeting, disorienting moment when Jack couldn’t register any blood to the gunfire. The scavengers had the same wild expression, shaken but unscathed, the man’s arms tight around his son. He visibly flinched when Gabe raised a finger to his ear.

 

“We’re done here, Sombra.” Gabe unlocked the door. “The bunker’s clear so call off the guards. We’re heading back.”

 

The man scooped up his son after Gabe backed away. The boy was staring with wide eyes, all the fear slipping away and replaced by something akin to wonder.

 

“There’s a hatch across the bunker that leads outside. Don’t come out until the sun does, then run as far south as you can,” Gabe said, his voice strained. “You didn’t see anything here.”

 

The man was eager to comply, judging by his nods.

 

“If you are one of the good guys why are you wearing a mask?” The boy asked. “Papa says bad people wear masks.”

 

The father stiffened. Jack stepped forward, dreading to see Gabe’s face. “Don’t push your luck, kid—”

 

“It’s the thing that keeps the monster inside, _mijo_ ,” Gabe said, a calm, reflective sadness in his voice. When he met Jack’s eyes, it was as though the mask had disappeared. “One of the things, at least.”

 

The kid didn’t seem satisfied. Without another word the father carried him off, their shadows and hushed whispers dissolving into the darkness. Faintly Jack heard “What’s a mee-hoe?”

 

“You done here?” Gabe was already outside.

 

Jack trailed behind, finally remembering to shut his mouth.  “Gabe—”

 

“Not a word about this,” he said. “We’re in enough trouble.”

 

Silently they tracked their way back, through ashes and bodies to the elevator that clanked and staggered up the rooftop. Absently Jack touched the back of his head, feeling the decommissioned implant and the weight of its sins.

 

The ship’s hum resounded through the concrete as Gabe slammed open the elevator gates. The dawning sun was creeping up the desert horizon. Gabe paused. The sky shone golden against his frame, hazy and ethereal. He looked almost serene.

 

“Before we go, Jack,” he said. “Just know that your moral compass won’t get in my way when our lives are on—”

 

Jack raised his hand. “I know. Thank you.”

 

Gabe didn’t shy away from his touch when he removed the mask. The morning glow illuminated his husband’s figure with delicate tones, ashen scars and glowing red veins and all. Gabe grunted, and his relenting smile was the best thing Jack had ever seen.

 

He pulled Gabe’s forehead against his own, feeling his steady breathing, and the warmth radiating off his skin. He missed this closeness, and the way Gabe’s head nestled in his palm like smoldering fire.

 

“You’re interrupting me, asshole.”

 

“Happy anniversary to you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might've been my tightest work because of the word count, and editing the first 4k draft is a real pain in the ass. I've been having an idea for the origin of Talon!Jack in my mind for a while now, so I might cook up something short and sweet in the future as a companion piece! 
> 
> Once again, thanks to every author/artist/mod on the zine. Y'all are amazing people and being on the same project with you guys is just the most humbling experience.
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hoodie_2_shoes), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


End file.
